


The Great Gatsby

by onlythefinest



Series: Whichever Lines Challenge [2]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alcohol, whichever lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-22 11:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlythefinest/pseuds/onlythefinest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Nixon remembers his father with distaste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Gatsby

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my First Lines Challenge, in which the first lines of famous and not-so-famous novels are used as a springboard for fics.

 

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_In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since_

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                Nix’s dad never told him not to drink. He would have been a hypocrite, had he tried, and Nix certainly would have called him out for it. Stanhope Nixon was the sole inspiration for Lewis’ problem-that-wasn’t-a-problem. Good Old Dad would take a drink in the morning, before work; he would take a drink around noon, during lunch; he would take a drink mid-afternoon, after work; he would take a drink in the evenings, after dinner; and he would take a drink at night, before bed. This was the home Lewis grew up in, so it should be no surprise he took up the bottle. His father was a great man, at least that’s what Child Lewis had been convinced of. Adult Lewis would look back and laugh at how stupid and naïve he’d been as he takes another drink of VAT69.

                Stanhope was a successful business man. He was a competent bookkeeper, an effective PR manager, a feared by some, loved by others employer. What he was _not_ was a father, Adult Lewis was sure.

                 As a child, on the rare occasion Lewis got to see his father, he had a drink in his hand. Either a glass tumbler of whiskey or a wineglass of Bordeaux, and sometimes the bottle itself, if his day had been particularly bad. But Nana would always bustle Lewis away and back to his playroom, so he wouldn’t “get underfoot,” as she liked to say.

                As a child, on the rare occasion Stanhope spoke to his son, he had a drink in his hand. He would tell Lewis he was going to grow up to be a real somebody as he ruffled his son’s hair and didn’t meet his eye, distracted. Lewis would beam and nod and drink from his sippy-cup, and Nana would drag him back to the playroom.

                Whether Adult Lewis agreed with this or not was debatable.

                But as a child, on the rare occasion Lewis got to see both his parents at the same time, his father had a drink in his hand. Lewis would stand next to Blanche, always both perfectly dressed, and their parents would pat their cheeks and kiss their foreheads and tell them what beautiful children they were (what beautiful _investments_ they were, Adult Lewis thinks). Blanche soaked in the praise like a sponge. Lewis soaked in the distanced encouragement from behind his father’s tumbler like whiskey spilled on a tablecloth. He could be whatever he wanted, and Child Lewis wanted to be like his father.

                Adult Lewis would look back on this decision with distaste, and swallow another mouthful of whiskey.


End file.
